Walk On the Ocean
by WindRyder1
Summary: ((chapt. 7. Memory of Jonathan Brandis)) Sequal to Skin Deep A week after Lucas and Samantha's return from Chatton, shore leave in Egypt uncovers mysteries of the ancients that push the limits of family, and the bonds of friendship.
1. part 1: Meeting

Ok, the sequal has begun! Mind you, it'll come slow because I'm not sure how to make a sequal to the origional. Jeese, when you guys give me a challange... Anyway, thanks for all who reviewed "Skin Deep" and I hope this lives up to at least some of your standards.  
  
****DISCLAIMER: (don't you hate these?) I don't own seaQuest. *bawls* but I have been to the studios! I do own Jarod, Sam, and all other origional characters, blah blah blah blah, you know the drill. If I were making any money, I'd have a better computer.****  
  
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Skin Deep Part 4.  
Walk on the Ocean.  
  
The day's were still proving to be cold by Florida standards.  
Measuring at an unprecidented 60 degrees, it was the coldest winter in history. A rare climate change. No frost layered the windows of the quiet cookie-cutter houses along Buckland Street in the northern suburbs, but those who were unaccustomed to lower than 70 degrees thought there should have be. It was a morning just like hundreds before: cars parked along the side of the curb beading with silver rain drops in the early light from a midnight storm, birds chirping clear songs in the oak and birtch trees, and the occasional dog barking from a backyard.  
Pleasant people lived here, people with secrectarial jobs and managing possitions, doctors, lawyers, and even a high paid waitress or two. They had no other worries than their families and economics. The neighborhood was always kept clean by the Neighborhood Watch group, and the people knew each other by name. They would wake up, kiss their wives, hug their children, and drive to work in decent four door Scions or Corollas. That's how the day would begin for them--the average working man.  
Had anyone been outside at 5 o'clock in the morning, the sight of a shiney black Le Saber sedan parked along side the community play ground might have caused an upstir of questions. Even more would have ensued from the look of the middle aged man exiting the car.  
Edward Phalwell held a cigarette in one hand, and kept the other tucked in the pocket of his ebony duster. The thin line of smoke from his lit cigarette twisted upwards before disipating in the winter breeze. He drew in a long pull and held the smoke in his lungs, his blood, before exhaling two perfect streams from his nostrals. Strands of his close cut brown hair matching his evenly cut thin beard flicked in the wind.  
He glanced to his watch just as the digital numbers changed from 4:59 to 5:00, and looked up across the slightly swaying swingset in the playground where the figure of a man in a thick blue sweater and blue jeans was walking toward him.  
"I see your people are known for punctuality," Phalwell said. He voice was deep and civilized, holding the inflection of a well mannored Harvard graduate. "An honerable trait."  
The other man--much younger at age 23--clutched at the collar of his sweater. Unlike Phalwell, his body was not acclimated to abnormal weather changes. "Why do we have to meet out here? I'll freeze my ass off."  
"Perhaps you should concider more important things at the moment, Mr. Lancing. We needed the cover of a less press populated area," Phalwell flicked the glowing cigarette butt to the ground and smothered it with the toe of his polished shoe. "Do you have it?"  
Lancing nodded and withdrew a minidisk jewel case from his pants pocket. "It's all there. Everything you wanted to know on the Kinkades and the Wolenczaks."  
"Including their children?"  
Lancing hesitated, forcing himself to swallow before it froze in his too cold body. His words came forced. "Yes."  
"Excellent," Phalwell took the disk and fingered it pleasingly with a grin. "As per the agreement, here's your reward." The business man brought out his hand that had been in his pocket the whole time, and opened it toward Lancing. In his palm lay a credit chit, and a crumpled piece of white college ruled paper. "The directions are written in detail, but I'm sure you can find your way."  
Lancing took the items and unwrapped the paper for a look. "Thank you," he choked.  
Phalwell nodded, turning back for the car.  
Lancing ran a hand through his medium cut, dusty brown hair. "Tell me, what do you intend to do with the information?"  
"Oh, I intend to exact my revenge, Mr. Lancing. Samantha Kinkade and Lucas Wolenczak have something I greatly desire, and I do not forfeit easily," he hissed. "You will keep in touch with the Kinkade girl."  
It was not a question. Lancing nodded, his voice caught in his throat.  
"Good," Phalwell's grin mimicked that of a cat satisfied after eating a mouse. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have some people to call. Please continue your studies, Mr. Lancing. You continualy prove to be an invaluable asset to us."  
Lancing watched the head of Phalwell Industries climb into the black sedan, pull quietly forward, and drive away down the empty suburban street.  
His throat had gone dry an hour ago, and the cold wind cracked his lips when he breathed. Yet for all the cold was worth, his fists still shook with barely contained hot anger.  
Phalwell would not get away with this, that much he was certain, but as of right now the business man held all the cards, as well as the young psychic's little sister.  
Lancing took the crumpled note from his pocket and read the address.  
  
45 S. Baker St.  
Apt. 4D  
5pm.  
  
There was something about the number 5 Lancing believed Phalwell for some reason favored.  
Placing the note back in his pocket with the credit chit that would survive him the next semester at the Chatton Parapsychology Center, Jarod Lancing crossed the empty playground back to his jeep.  
~Don't worry, Miranda,~ he thought, ~ I'll get you out of there. I promise.~  
  
* * * *  
  
((Please R&R. Thank you. :o) )) 


	2. Chapter Two

(((Thanks to everyone who responded to the last chapter: ThE InSaNe OnE, Teresa, Sara, Kiddo, and Jess. Since I"m not sure where to go with this, my postings may not be very fast. I write carefully, but from the reviews, I believe I write well. At least I hope I do.... '_' .... Anyway, on to Chapter 2!))))  
  
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"Ow!"  
"Sam, are you alright?" Lynn asked to the sound of a vile shattering on the hard metal floor of the SeaQuest DSV's lab 4.  
It hurt and stung. It hurt so bad that it made the young brunette hop up and down with pain, hollering as she grabbed her right foot and bounced around her desk. She flopped onto the swivling stool and clutched her foot, biting her lip and hissing back another yelp. Her foot throbbed as fire shot through the bones and up her leg. The other four adults in the med lab regarded her curiously. She hissed in pain. They couldn't see what would have caused the young 18 year old to suddenly burst out in fits of "ow's" and a "son of a bitch." The answer was simple; there was nothing to see.  
"Samantha, language," Kristin scolded.  
"Sorry, Doc," she appologized through tightly gritted teeth and watering green eyes.  
"Did you stub your toe? I told you wearing those sandles was a stupid idea."  
Samantha shook her head, still biting her lip. "No, I'm ok. Realy, Lynn." She was just as confused as everyone else.  
Kristen picked up a petrea dish she's knocked off the desk and placed it beside a Rutlian Trench core sample analysis printout. "What happened?"  
"I don't know. One minute I was walking over to the centrifuge, then next my foot felt like somone had shoved an ice pick through it."  
"Let me take a look at that."  
Samantha sat on a squeaky metal stool and took off her sandle to let Kristen examine her foot. The doctor gently proded around the skin, noting Samantha flinch when she touched the instep. "With your reaction, I'd expect to see a bruise, or a scratch, but I can't find a trace of any notable injury. I'd say you bumped it. You're fine."  
"But I didn't hit it on anything."  
"You probably pinched a nerve."  
Samantha left her sandle off so the leather strap wouldnt' rub against her sore foot. She opened her mouth slighty to contradict, but it was a mystery. So she turned back to the computer and stared at the graphical representation of the sea water she was examening. Slowly as the throbbing in her foot receeded, her thoughts reoriented themselves on the solution and the bacteria content of the latest black smoker sample taken from the Mid Atlantic Ridge.  
  
* * * *  
"Ow! Ben, watch it!" Lucas cried out as the hard metalic crate he was helping Ben with crashed down on his right foot. He hopped up and down, foot in hand, and swearing under his breath.  
"I thought you had it. What happened?" Ben asked, setting down his end of the heavy cargo crate with a hard thud.  
Lucas took a few deep breaths too keep from crying out again, and didn't respond to the moral officer for a good thirty seconds. "Does 'I'm loosing my grip' sound like 'I've got it' to you?"  
"Sorry, buddy. You ok?"  
Lucas nodded. "Fine. I don't think anything's broken." Tentitivly, he set his foot back down, wincing at the sharp spike of pain from the pressure. His sneaker suddenly felt far too tight. He undid the laces and slid the shoe off. The cargo hold was basicly empty save for the two of them and an ensign taking a manifest report on the other side of the room, and all he gave them was a curious expression. "Next time let's go on three and not two."  
"Right. On three. One, two, three." Both readjusted their grips and lifted the boxy metalic crate over to a stack of variously sized containers near the wall.  
"What's in here anyway, bricks?" Lucas grunted.  
"WSKR."  
They set the crate down with hard clank on the floor. "That can't be a WSKR. There's too much weight in proportion to a WSKR mass."  
"Have you ever lifted one of those things?"  
Lucas shook his head. "No, but I've done the math."  
"Well, you're right. It's not just a WSKR," Ben wiped his brow with his forearm. "It's a WSKR, replacement parts, package peanuts, and the maintence man."  
Lucas quarked an eyebrow. "I thought maintence came in separate packages."  
"They did till the UEO started cutting budgets. I tell ya, Luke, the world's gone mad."  
"Don't call me Luke," Lucas automaticly responded. Even though he didnt' mind it from Ben, the reaction was still engrained in his psyche. He limped over to the next crate.  
"I'll get it. Sit down."  
Lucas sat on a nearby step leading to the entrance hatch without arguing as his foot still throbbed, and watched Ben Krieg struggle with another smaller crate. His military training came out clearly in the way he was able to give orders when he had to, and his muscles bulged beaneath the black UEO jump suit.  
"So, how you been lately? You've been kinda quiet since you and Sam got back from Chatton."  
Lucas shrugged. "It's only been a week, Ben."  
"I know, but that's something that doesn't wear off easily." The older man scooted the crate on top of another waist high and exhaled deeply. He rested his elbow on it.  
"I feel fine," the young genius stated.  
"You're acting pretty calm for someone who lived a Stephen King novel. That's pretty intense."  
"I don't want to talk about what happened."  
"Why not?"  
"I just don't, alright?" Lucas' voice carried more heat than he'd intended. Probably because his foot still twinged with pain. Calming his voice was easier since more time had passed from when he returned. He did so out of respect for his friend. "It's just good to be myself again. Listen," he slid his shoe back on, "I gotta go meet someone for lunch."  
"Sam?"  
Lucas nodded lightly as he stood. There was no sense in hiding the truth. "Yea. I'll come back and give you a hand with the rest of these later."  
"Don't worry about it," Ben shrugged it off, bending over to lift another crate. "Engisn Rigsby will give me a hand, won't you, Ensign?"  
The young ensign looked at the comment directed to him and nodded, knowing he couldn't decline a superior officer.  
"Rigsby's got some real muscle on him."  
Lucas made to look hurt by the insult, but the humor in Ben's voice caused a slight grin that betrayed his pretended sullen demeanor. "Yea, yea. Go stuff yourself in an airlock."  
Ben chuckled as Lucas left, and called the ensign over to give him a hand with the last six crates.  
  
Lucas walked into the half full galley to find Samantha already seated at the back corner table with a tray in front of her, brooding over something. Her foot was odly propped over the chair to her right. He waved when she looked up and moved across the room to fill a tray of his own with the delectible processed food of the SeaQuest's kitchens.  
The table in the back corner had become their regular meal meeting place, and grandualy, more of the crew began to realize the pattern even after only a week. That had been his spot for the previous two weeks, but he always seemed to be alone. Save for a small handful of people who knew otherwise, Lucas had never been alone.  
Now, meeting for meals-breakfast, lunch, or otherwise-- was becoming as common as Kreig conjuring plans for extra cash.  
"What's with the foot?" he asked, setting the tray down and digging in.  
Samantha shrugged. "What's with the limp?"  
He sighed irritated that the limp hadn't disappeared yet. He was also embarassed to tell her why, so he occupied himself with the hashbrowns.  
She just stared at him, unblinking. Finally after about thirty seconds, he picked up his coffee cup. "Ben dropped a crate on my foot."  
Samantha blinked, staring up at him, trying to hide a chuckle and failing miserably. "So, uhm, I don't suppose you'll be able to walk around on..."  
"...Shore leave, yes, but you try having a WSKR in a tin crate drop on your instep and see how you feel."  
"Ouch. Like an ice pick, right?"  
"Yea, pretty much."  
She glanced at her foot still propped on the chair beside her, then back to him, His eyes followed hers.  
"That's...creepy," they said in unison.  
For a moment all that passed between them was silence.  
"Yea, well at least I'm not going crazy," she said casualy, sipping her coffee.  
It wasn't exactly what either wanted to realize, but Lucas thought that someone else shareing a fraction of your pain was at least a little cool in that mysterious way.  
"They said side effects would crop up,but I..."  
"...didn't know what to expect," she finished with him.  
"Stop that.".  
"You stop that."  
He didn't even realize he'd eaten all his hashbrowns until she asked him how he could stand them. His come back was that she hadn't even touched hers even though she use to like them.  
"I blame it on you," she pushed her plate away.  
Both teenagers picked up their cups of coffee and leaned back, sipping the black liquid syncronously with hardly any notice. Over the past three weeks, Lucas had aquired a taste for coffee, although unlike Samantha, was unable to drink it black. He had to have creamer, or sugar, or something to calm the stark burnt flavor.  
"So, what are your shore leave plans?" Samantha asked.  
"You asume I have any."  
She nodded. "An idiot would't make use of this time away from the ship. The sun is a rare comodity, Luke."  
"Don't..." Lucas let a pause float by wherein should have fit the phrase 'don't call me Luke,' but with Samantha, it was a moot point. "My dad called. I'll probably be spending it at the World Power plant. Four days go by fast when you can find something to do."  
"Oh," She muttered and sipped her coffee, averting her eyes.  
Lucas arched an eyebrow. "'oh' What?"  
"I'm going to Egypt," she admitted with a slight breath.  
"Egypt?" It was more a confirming statement than a question.  
"Uh-huh," she sighed irritably. "My dad's a guest speaker at an archeological 'Pow wow.' Again."  
Lucas cleared his throat and looked back at his half empty plate. Samantha hated the desert. The water was her home, and taking her that far away from it would be like throwing a fish out the shore, across the beach to splatter against the road. "I thought for sure you'd be with that Jarod guy."  
"Jarod is nice. If you recall, he kept our secret perfectly," she defended.  
"And everything you said at the Chamelion Desire?"  
She cringed slightly. "Nothing incriminating."  
They sat in silence for a moment. Samantha picked at her hashbrowns.  
"I'll call you," Lucas finally said.  
"Me, too."  
Neighther knew what it would be like to be that far apart from each other so soon after being separated, but Lucas' gut was suddenly ladden with a heavy feeling of bad anticipation. Either that or the hashbrowns.  
Their conversation, however, caused a few glances from a group of three sitting nearby.  
"I think they're getting over this well, don't you, commander?" L.T O'Neill asked the dark skinned ex-o. Jonathan Ford finished off a bit of salad and nodded.  
"From the report the captain gave me, I wasn't sure if I should believe it at all."  
"Stranger things have happened," Tim added loosly as he picked at his food.  
"Yea, but has anyone ever wondered why it always happens to us?" Miguel Ortize said.  
Ford shrugged.  
"So Tim," Miguel began as a slide into a new topic, "any plans for shore leave?"  
"It just so happens I've been invited to the International Archeological Society's annual convention this year." His voice held pride which he didn't bother hiding.  
"Say that again?" Miguel quarried. Ford simply nodded once and nursed a cup of fleet coffee.  
"I'm going to Egypt," Tim explained, speaking as if explaining a concept to a slow child.  
"Why am I not surprised?"  
"If I had to guess," Tim pointed a fork at him, "you're going to the beach to scope out the chicks."  
"It doesn't quite sound right when you say it," Miguel countered, breaking into a laugh when his friend frowned. "I was kidding."  
"What about you, commander?" Tim asked, ignoring Miguel.  
Ford set his mug down. "My cousin's got this little beach house he and his wife are willing to give up for a weekend. I'd thought about confiscating it in the name of UEO santiy preservation."  
Miguel smirked. "I hope you enjoy yourself, commander."  
"I intend to, Lt."  
All looked up when Samantha stood, dumped her dirty tray with a sighed 'see ya later'to Lucas and left the room. A few moments later, Lucas followed suit without a word.  
"Sheesh, You'd think they were actualy trying to hide something."  
Tim hid a chuckle in his coffee cup. 


	3. Chapter Three

****Thanks to everyone who reviewed. I love your support and your comments. They mean so much to me. Really. *snifles* I"d like to thank all the little people I stepped on to get here. ^_^ j/k. Thanks you, Cadnobach, Kiddo, Teresa, ThE InSaNe OnE, and Sara, and anyone else who reviews after I've posted this chapter.**** ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Walk on the Ocean: Part 3.  
  
Our Separate Ways  
  
***The next morning...***  
The streamlined body of the SeaQuest DSV glided through the waters of the Mediterranean Sea like wind over silk. With the constant buzz of the WSKRs hovering around the ship, it seemed more like a protected giant than a submarine, free to roam, comfortable nothing would challenge its authority as king of the waters. It was a nice allusion to maintain for the UEO crew, albeit a false one. They knew all too well where they could and could not tread. The politics behind the moves of the SeaQuest were stiflingly clear: No gnashing of teeth at the foreign big fish.  
The whole ship buzzed with the excitement that comes from anticipation of shore leave. All around, the crew seemed cheerier, giving buoyant hellos and laughing at jokes that otherwise would have seemed inane and been met with a chorus of unamused groans. It was as if someone had infused the ventilation system with a good dose of happy gas.  
Nathan Bridger stepped onto the bridge, instantly greeted by the normal hum of the crew going through their daily routines. Officer Chen had the boat steady on course, Commander Ford stood behind Lt. Katie Hitchcock listening to her report of latest restrictions placed on the use of the VR probe near Alexandria, and Lt. Tim O'Neill was expertly monitoring communication traffic. All was running smoothly without any glitches--the perfect order the flagship of the UEO demanded.  
"What's our ETA, commander?" Nathan announced.  
The commander straightened. "One hour, sir."  
"Excellent.."  
"Sir," Ford began, "I was under the impression we were docking at the Canary Islands."  
"Initially, yes, we were, but seeing as two of our crew are attending the International Archeological Society's annual convention, I saw it an excellent opportunity for some exotic leave. I've disgusted the matter with Admiral Noyce, and he couldn't agree more."  
Tim grinned out of sight from behind his station as he listened to communications reports from the surface.  
"I see, sir," Ford clasped his hands behind his back. "Aren't you even a little worried?" he said lightly.  
"Concerning?"  
"Your last encounter with an Egyptian delegate involved the smashing of a priceless artifact in front of a western world nations meeting."  
Nathan nodded at the casually placed point. "Ah, yes. The lost library of Alexandria." He gave his ex-o an amused grin. "Good thinking, Commander. I'll bring a security detail."  
Ford returned the grin, yet maintaining an air of seriousness. "I suggest Chief Crocker, sir. And if you don't mind company..."  
"I'd be happy to include you, commander," Nathan nodded. "Dress the occasion."  
"Will do, sir."  
Nathan moved to the captain's chair and settled into the plush fabric, thinking of the Archeological Society's future reaction to his presence. He just hoped the Egyptian government had forgiven him and finally buried the hatchet.  
  
* * * *  
The shuttles were due to depart in 20 minutes, and already the docking bays were beginning to fill with people waiting for their rides to four days of freedom. The closer the countdown came to zero, the heavier the filtering of traffic into the bay became.  
Ben Krieg came sauntering through the door in a pair or Raybands set above a wide toothed grin. A pack was slung loosely over his shoulder, adding a stark plainness to the wild pattern of his short-sleeved Hawaiian shirt left deliberately open to show a white SEAQUEST tank top, a pair of Bermuda shorts, and sandals. Keeping the grin, he walked up to the ensign with the charter manifest standing vigilantly near the access port. "Yo, Simon. What's new? My name should be down toward the bottom there," he pointed.  
The ensign grinned. "Sure, Lt. Right below 'Kinkade.'"  
"Sam's on the same shuttle, eh?" Ben rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "Is she here yet?"  
"Yup. Came in a few minutes ago. She wasn't that talkative."  
Ben clapped him on the shoulder and grinned. "Much obliged, Simon." With a quick appreciative pat on the younger man's shoulder, Ben turned and climbed down the ladder into the shuttle. He meandered through the passengers already seated and involved in conversations to the back of the mini-sub where the figure of a girl in an off-white Dolphins belly tank with blue type, baggy khaki pants, and brown hiking sandals sat. Loose brown hair fell across green eyes that were intently studying over a book. Two wires leading down to a minidisk player trailed from her ears to the device sitting next to her on the seat.  
Ben stopped and waited a moment to be recognized. When she failed to notice, he cleared his throat loudly. "Into Thin Air, eh? Good book. I remember reading about that disaster on Mt. Everest. Mind if I sit down?"  
Samantha looked up. "Oh, hi, Lt. Nah, I don't mind," she tugged the earbuds out of her ears and moved the minidisk player aside.  
"So, where's your buddy?" Ben stuffed his duffel bag in the overhead compartment.  
"He's packing."  
Ben made himself comfortable and stretched out as if he owned the couch. Someone across the launch made a crack at his smelly feet, and his comeback was just as quick. "It's a science experiment to see how long it takes for fungus to grow under my toenails."  
"That's disgusting," Science officer Taylor Nicols wrinked her nose from opposite side of the launch.  
Ben grinned, a smile that didn't quite reach ear to ear, but enough to show white teeth. He turned to Samantha "Did you bring your guitar?" Ben asked, trying at small talk.  
"Yup. It's in the cargo compartment."  
"Four days of freedom. Nothing better for moral. So, Do you two have plans?"  
Samantha sighed at the interruption from her book. "No, we don't have plans. I. am going to see my dad in the desert, and Lucas is going to stay beneath the surface on the other side of the world with his."  
Ben held up a hand in defense of his question, keeping an innocent pose. "Hey, I didn't mean anything by it. You two just seemed inseparable this past week."  
"Yea?" Samantha narrowed her green eyes slightly in irritation and marked the book. Why couldn't people just leave her alone? "Well maybe I needed to get away from him for a while. You can understand that, right?" Standing and gathering her things, she abruptly left Ben alone by the cockpit seats and moved between two other crew members already seated and engaged in conversations diagonally across from Ben. Nodding a greeting to them, she put the earbuds back in her ears, turned the volume up to cover the launch chatter, and flipped the book open.  
Ben blinked, not entirely seeing her reason. He couldn't pin down her irritation or anger, and it didn't make sense to him in the least. After all, it was a simple question, but apparently one worth being shunned over.  
  
* * * *  
Elsewhere on the ship, Lucas had made it his personal crusade to fill a duffel bag with as much stuff as possible for the third time in less than a month, only this time he was alone. He would pack alone, leave alone, spend the next four days alone, and leave alone even if he was with his father under the waters of western Australia. After all, he had his laptop and an internex satellite uplink. He could at least keep in touch with his friends.  
He thought of Julianna for a moment as he packed, carelessly shoving cloths into his black duffel bag. They'd spoken twice since he returned from Chatton, and on both accounts she'd asked him what was wrong even when he thought he was being careful in his body language. That was a problem with vid phones. He almost wished the old fashioned, olive green rotary phone tucked up on a shelf with his 20th century memorabilia was operable, but for that it needed a ground line and a phone jack, and he was no where near either.  
He gave the contents of the bag one last hard shove and pulled on the zipper tab. The zipper groaned in protest. He tugged, pulled, yanked, put a foot on the books inside and tried to force it, but only succeeded in a half way closure.  
"Maybe Sam was right about packing," he panted, though now determined. With one last great pull and a grunt, the zipper finally gave up the good fight and relented to the power of human persistence.  
"Ha!" Lucas tossed the bag over his shoulder in victory and strutted out the door. "Who says I can't pack?"  
Bristling with self pride, the young genius put a bounce in his step as he crossed the ship to the maglev, taking it the short distance to the docking bay.  
  
* * * *  
They were lucky the weather in Alexandria, Egypt was cooperating for the time being. The shuttles docked one by one, unloading their excited passengers into the beautiful late winter warmth of the coastal city--the former capitol of Egypt. Some went immediately to their travel bags for sunblock, almost as if it was their last chance of survival, but others like Miguel Ortize and Katie Hitchcock simply passed them by.  
"Ah, I love the sun, don't you, Lt.?" Katie breathed in the sweet salt flavor of the air, relishing in the warmth of the sun that some tried to block. She loved it. The sunshine had always made her feel relaxed and free, and to block it would erase the entire meaning of shore leave. She could burn to a crisp and be as red as a lobster for all she cared.  
Miguel nodded and stretched his arms above him. "Four days of nothing but fun, sun, and Mediterranean women."  
Katie shook her head. "Personally, I'm taking this time to relax. This whole business with the ships repairs has had my neck in knots all week," she massaged the back of her neck briefly.  
"At least now you can hand over your wrench to someone else."  
"They can keep it," Katie snorted.  
The light-hearted whistling of a content Benjamin Kreig breezed past them as the moral officer smiled broadly. "Hey, Migs. Katie."  
"Ben," Katie greeted. "Off to scout the night clubs?" she raised an eyebrow at the loud, horribly clashing get-up he'd chosen to display.  
"Gotta get an early start. You never know what treasures await," he mock bowed in a backward walk, then spun on his heal and continued his quest to the center of Alexandria.  
"I've heard of making an impression on another culture, but that's just insane."  
"No, that's just Ben," Commander Ford quipped as he passed by. The captain and Chief Crocker were talking to a UEO official out of earshot. By the hand gestures, it was a friendly conversation. Soon, Dr. Kristin Westphalen joined them.  
Miguel chuckled, but soon found his eyes following the shift of a bronzed body under the cloth of a short, patterned fringe dress across the street. "I think I'll start my impression on culture as soon as possible, Lt. Ya know, get as much education as possible."  
Katie followed his gaze and hmphed loudly. "Men." She sighed. "And on that happy note, have fun Lt." The hotel shuttle for UEO crew caught her sight and she left Miguel to his business of clearing up cross-cultural differences.  
Samantha blinked up at the sun as she stepped off the launch, instantly flinching at the stark contrast of the shuttle's controlled environment to the heat of Alexandria's sun--like stepping into the fire of Ra. For a long moment she just stood there, taking in the port, the people, the architecture, the air--completely lost in her own mind. Her breath caught in her throat as a flood of memories whisked too fast before her eyes.  
She was back. After all these years, she was finally back.  
All other sound had dulled to a low rumble in the reminiscence, so she missed the first time Lucas tried to get her attention. "Hm? What?"  
"You zoned."  
"Sorry."  
"Is your dad here?"  
"No, I don't see him yet."  
Lucas ran a hand through his blond hair, which swayed lightly in the sea breeze. "So, I guess this is it."  
"Yea, guess so," she turned her head to face him.  
The departing crew bustled around them in their moment of silence, calling for their luggage, asking locals for direction, getting hotel arrangements taken care of, but all that poured around the two teenagers as if it were air around an invisible bubble.  
"Good luck with your dad," Samantha extended her hand.  
Lucas took it. "You, too. I'll call you."  
"Me, too."  
"I got a new uplink installed..."  
"...on the laptop that gets..."  
"...the Internex..."  
"...anywhere."  
Half of that was said in near synchronization that would have done Radar O'Reily proud. Lucas laughed lightly and ran a hand through his hair again. "Won't miss that."  
Samantha pushed hair behind her ear. By the amount of times he'd done that, she knew it was his way of hiding uneasiness, or any other uncomfortable emotion. Unfortunately, it was a habit she had slightly adopted.  
"Well, Bye. You take care of yourself, Sam."  
Samantha smiled. "Bye, Lucas. You, too. I'll see you in four days."  
The two embraced for a moment, then Lucas pulled back and adjusted the strap of his duffel bag. Throwing her a half grin, he turned around and let the seaside air take his place.  
She watched him go for a moment, caught by the movement of his cloths and the effortless way he shrugged off the gray flannel even with a bag over his shoulder. She remembered that move. She remembered everything. The stolen time allowed a stray thought to wander to the front of her mind.  
Was she actually going to miss him? Even with sharing each other's annoying habits and presence for two weeks, 24/7, was she genuinely going to miss having him around? She blinked, surprised at the thought, and picked up the duffel she'd dropped. "No way," she said to herself, as if the words would dissipate the thought into wisps of steam.  
"Hey, Half pint!" a new voice yelled.  
Samantha's head snapped up at the nick name rarely used, drawing her entire body around to the source.  
A tall man in tan cargo pants, and a green camping vest waved to her from across the street. He wore a white T-shirt with a fading print of a cartouche hammered cockeyed into a black line, beneath which was a translation in bold comic sans MS font: "Keep Off the Sand. A.S. Convention, 2010." His worn leather hiking boots were tightly strapped over the hem of his pants, but his shirt remained untucked. Strands of dark hair fell just to the top of his glasses frames behind which green eyes squinted in the glare of the sun. His other hand cupped over them for a shield.  
Samantha waved back to him and jogged over to where he was standing between a couple cargo crates for a local fishing trawler.  
The man smiled and drew her into a hug. The top of her head only came to his chin. "How was your trip?"  
"It was fine. Living on a sub is pretty cool." Samantha pulled away and adjusted her small shirt, thinking pants in this heat was a bad idea. She should know better.  
"So, was that your boyfriend?" the man asked, flashing a grin beneath the thin rimmed spectacles.  
Samantha narrowed her eyes and socked him in the arm. "No," she glanced back at a far away Lucas, realizing the man she stood beside was ignorant to their adventure, "just a good friend."  
"Hey, Sam. The hotel shuttle is about to leave. Are you coming, or what?" Tim grumped, struggling with four black bags that threatened to burst at the seems.  
Samantha ran a hand through her hair. "Tim, I'd like you to meet my father, Shawn Kinkade."  
  
**more to come in the future. Don't loose hope! R&R please. :o) ** 


	4. Chapter Four

((Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter; Cadnobach, Sara, Kiddo, Teresa, Kas, and anyone else I missed. I'm trying my hardest to write this story as it needs to be told, and I'm flattered you guys thing it's good enough to continue.. This next week will be hectic, as I'm starting a new job at the local theatre, so writing will be slow. And now for chapter 4....))  
  
Chapter Four  
  
~~~~~~~  
  
"Dr. Kinkade?" Tim dropped his jaw and two of the bags. His eyes grew three sizes, then he burst out in all smiles of excitement. "Wow. Sir. It's a pleasure to finally meet you. Sam's spoken a lot about you."  
"Oh really?" He ruffled her hair. "Nothing good, I'm sure."  
Tim laughed at the obvious joke.  
"Dad," Samantha wined, pushing his hand away. "I'm not a kid."  
Tim laughed--especially at the remarkable resemblance to the way Lucas argued his age. "I promised not tell." He looked back into the face of the archeologist. "I've read your papers and studied your work in Egypt. That discovery you made of the sunken ruins of Gargathi in the Mediterranean sea is absolutely astounding. And the excavation of a burial circle of priests of Amenhotep in the Valley of the Kings--I included that in a research paper."  
Shawn chuckled. "Thank you, Mr..."  
"O'Neill," Tim shifted the remaining two bags and extend an eager hand. Shawn took it with a quick vigorous shake "Lt. Tim O'Neill. Chief Communications officer onboard the SeaQuest DSV." Tim's stomach did a backflip.  
"Fascinating. How many languages do you speak?"  
"Six. I'm ok at a dozen more."  
"Impressive."  
Samantha glanced up at her father. "You didn't say anything about Marakuteta, the high priestess of Naunet."  
Tim's eyes performed the impossible by widening further. "High Priestess?"  
"Our latest discovery." Shawn gave Samantha a parental scolding look. "It was going to be revealed at the convention, but now, well you have a heads up, Mr. O'Neill." He added as he put a hand on his daughter's back. Samantha took a slight step away to the side, putting her hands in her pockets. Her father hardly noticed, but Tim's eyes shifted to her for a moment.  
"The A.S is holding a banquette tonight," he said to Tim. "You and your friends are more than welcome to attend."  
Tim practically beamed with pleasure so wide, it stuttered his words. "I'm...I'd...we'd be honored, Dr."  
Shawn grinned at the man's excitement. It was always amusing to see people this enthralled with his work. That kind of attention had taken him a long time to get use to out of college. "It's at 8 in the Isis ballroom at the Grand Hotel. I'll leave a note with the desk clerk to expect you."  
"Thank you. I'll let captain Bridger and the others know. It was a pleasure to Finally meet you, Dr. Kinkade," he smiled. With a nod, Tim regathered his things, a bit clumsy from the haste, and hauled them to the hotel shuttle.  
What came next was all to familiar for Samantha. She recognized the inevitable step, exhaled irritably and glanced at her father with what should have been a normal annoyed expression. Instead the words came out sounding more tired than she'd expected. "I suppose you'll want me to find a dress now, huh."  
  
* * * *  
Paychecks are a grand thing. Especially when you get paid to do what you love. Lucas had one of these famed pieces of UEO issue paper now, and he fully intended on using it.  
The cashier at the airport's StarBucks coffee stand was nice, though his English could have used some work. It took Lucas asking the man three times what he'd said, and finally figured out he'd been asked about whipped cream and cinnamon on his mocha. Lucas had accepted, taken the coffee, and went to the sitting area outside gate D to wait for his plane.  
That was over an hour and a half ago.  
He stretched, cracked his knuckles again for the umpteenth time, and picked up the napkin that had come with the coffee. On it was a mess of pen marks, lines, and numbers that to a trained eye was the outline of a mini-sub, but to the average layman, seemed nothing more than incomprehensible scribbles. He checked it over, redid the math for the propulsion systems in his head, and worked his brain around a name. The artistic area of anything had always been a few inches out of reach, leaving him with things called X-45, or Z9-12, but ever since Samantha had used his hands and mind to play the guitar, his naming system had changed.  
  
Now that he looked at it from all angles--the shape, the design, the size--he could almost see his creation speeding through the water with untouchable grace. It pierced the blue, leaving behind a stinging wake....a stinging....sting...Stinger. Yea, that sounded right. He'd call it the Stinger.  
It was so perfect that he grinned at his own ingenuity.  
For the first time in hours, the young genius began to feel excited. He lost himself in the dream of the Stinger, seeing his name in 1st place on racing trophies, hearing the roar of the crowd as they cheered on the famous teenager who built the world's most advanced and coveted sub- fighter, and his parents beaming with pride at their son while Julianna covered his face in kisses.  
Samantha would be jealous of the Stinger. Samantha.....why did she always invade his thoughts? He closed his eyes to it, focusing on the image of Julianna's kisses and grinned.  
"Mr. Wolenczak?"  
Lucas opened his eyes from his distraction and looked up at the deep voice of one of the Alexandria airport's attendants. He folded the napkin away.  
"Mr. Lucas Wolenczak?" the man questioned again. He had dark hair and wore a crisp, a-line cut red tunic over a pair of black pressed trousers. Lucas glanced at the gold name tag pinned to his lapel that read 'R. Feringer.'  
"Yea, that's me."  
The attendant held out a small folded note to him. "This just came in for you."  
Lucas took the note and thanked Mr. R. Feringer, then waited for him to leave before unfolding the paper. His blue eyes quickly scanned the words, yet despite the speed he still frowned before he'd finished reading.  
  
~~~~~~  
Lucas,  
I'm afraid I won't be able to see you this time. There's been a minor explosion at World Power that's prevented anyone from coming or going until the radiation levels have dropped and the area has been cleared. There have been some minor injuries, but thankfully no fatalities. I'm sure you will understand that I couldn't risk you being exposed to the dangers here no matter how much I may need your help. No science experiment demands your life as a price to success. I'll contact the SeaQuest as soon as main power is back online. I know captain Bridger will find something for you to do.  
  
Dad.  
  
~~~~~~  
  
All enthusiasm from the Stinger's discovery winked out like a candle.  
  
Its replacement was the dark disappointment that usually followed a letter like this. With the nature of Lawrence Wolenczak's work, they came more often than not. Lucas understood that. He saw the logic in it, he read the meaning clearly and his right brain accepted it. Still, disappointment ignored logic. It saw yet another letter of rejection, another statement of abandonment to a world that couldn't ever see that emotion, and despite the knowledge that it wasn't his dad's fault, Lucas failed to stop it again.  
"He'll never change," he grumbled angrily, then crumpled up the note and shoved it into his pants pocket. Four days in Egypt were now fully to himself with no plans, and no itinerary. What was he going to do with himself?  
He slung the duffel over his shoulder and stalked away from gate D toward the front door. Calling Samantha crossed his mind, but he shook his head at that. She'd said she'd wanted time off, and both of them were getting irritated with finishing each other's sentences, so he resigned to asking captain Bridger if he could stay onboard the SeaQuest and help with repairs. Maybe he'd even start work on a prototype of the Stinger napkin design.  
With this thought to blanket the let-down of his father's note, Lucas headed for the only place he knew he could go...  
The Alexandria Grand Hotel. 


	5. Chapter Five

((Thanks to Angeleyes99110, Sara, Kiddo, Teresa, Cadnobach, and anyone else I missed for reviewing the last chapter. I love all these reviews, good or bad, so please feel free to keep writing. ^_^ Thank you.))  
  
General disclaimers apply. Ya'll know what they are.  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Chapter Five  
  
"We discovered it the year Samantha was sent to Berkley," Shawn began, spooning some pudding into his mouth. "At first we thought it was an elaborate ruin of a slave burial site, but certain things have cropped up since then that have forced us to change our theory."  
The others at the circular table had helped themselves to the plentiful food of the long buffet table nestled between the Ming Dynasty, and the Medieval era. All were dressed in their best. The UEO crew present wore dress uniforms, while the civilians darned gowns of mostly white and black. Kristen adjusted the thick light blue shoulder strap of her gown absently while she listened.  
"What made you change your mind, Doctor?" captain Bridger asked.  
"For the last four years, we've been uncovering still more and more of the structure. We soon realized it was a labyrinth--intricately complicated with more ins and outs than we'd expected, and we still don't think we've hit the end of the line yet. It goes beneath the surface far deeper than even the Pyramids of Giza."  
"That's simply amazing. I assume it was a pyramid structure." Kristen smiled from her seat next to the captain. Tim sat beside her fully enthralled, Commander Ford to his left picking at his food, two empty seats were next, then around to Shawn, Samantha, and back to the captain.  
Miguel and Ben had abandoned their seats long ago, choosing to stay by the finger foods table.  
"Interestingly, no," Shawn pushed the rim of his glasses up. "Topographic maps show it as more of a Nautilus. We decided to give the entire excavation that name."  
"Given the nature of the Goddess Marakuteta served, that makes sense," Tim voiced. "There were reports made of a possible burial site of a God, and one even said to have discovered the tomb of Bastet, but that was quickly bunked. What evidence do you have that this indeed is the tomb of Marakuteta? Or even Naunet" Tim asked, taking a bite of a Caesar salad.  
"How about you see for yourself, Lt. O'Neill," It was the delightful grin that caught Tim as the older scientist stood. "Excuse me, captain," Shawn nodded, then moved to the front of the room. Tim followed.  
Samantha knew her father was ready to show off--the conversation had been the beginning--so she busied herself with the task of memorizing the layout of the room.  
The Isis ball room at the Alexandria Grand Hotel was extravagant to begin with. Flying buttresses topped the columns around the room, and the floor was a rich dark maple that shone with the reflection of the hand carved stone tiled high ceiling.  
The Archeological Society had a way with parties.  
For decades, they would emulate a Hollywood red carpet premiere out of conventions. Dignitaries would show for the one night of speeches, presentations, and mainly to view the artifacts up close. This had made security tight at all times, but there was still the threat of someone trying to steal the priceless antiques. A few attempts have been made, but since the A.S had begun employing psychics three years ago after an attempt on King Tutunkaman's headdress, there hasn't been a single theft report.  
The two psychics involved this year mingled with the crowd unnoticed. No one could tell the difference between the guests and security, so they were confident in their safety.  
For this occasion, the room had been decorated like the inside of an ancient Egyptian arboretum. It was filled with people seated at round tables clustered throughout the room. Lining the edges of the room were various discoveries from all over the world, separated into galleries of their respective countries. The Egyptian setting was the most prominent, occupying the upper portion of the room on a platform. A great number were the saved remnants of the ancient Alexandria library. The most recent artifacts had been set at the front of the room, flanking a speech podium etched with the all-seeing eye. A small band had been set in the corner. Their music drifted through the room on winds and piano and strings, igniting the atmosphere with calming ease to a piano waltz.  
The air was cool despite the humidity, and tasted of salt from the breeze that filtered through a wide open window to the east.  
It reminded Samantha of the first event she had attended in Alexandria. Her father was a guest speaker about the Valley of the Kings burial circle then, but unlike this one, he had taken every opportunity to show off his ten year old daughter. Or rather her mind. Her father was proud of her to the point of making her sick. He wanted her to be everything he was--a miniature Shawn Kinkade--but she had fought it. Oh she would put on a show for the big wigs, all the high brows, and the people issuing grants. She would recite bits of information her father had told her verbatim, smile and curtsy, then dance with the rich kids. She'd often wondered if she were born a boy, her father might dress her exactly like himself. It was a frightening thought.  
She listened to the music, letting her mind wander with the laziness of her gaze. It wasn't long before she caught herself thinking about Lucas. He would be on the plane right now, probably buried in his lap top and ignoring the world. This place wouldn't have appealed to him. He would be as bored as she was.  
The light caught her dolphin ring for a fraction of a second, but was enough to bring a powerful sense of miss and distance that forced her fist closed to push it back.  
From the corner of her eye, she caught a blond woman watching her and swirling a glass of wine. A moment later, an older man in a tuxedo joined her, whispering with eye flicks to Samantha. The blond set her drink down, grabbed the man's hand, and pulled him away.  
~Those have to be the psycics,~ Samantha thought. Hardly anyone else had looked at her that night, and none for that long.  
"What is it, Sam?" Bridger asked.  
Samantha looked up, then quickly pushed her long bangs out of the way. "Nothing. I was just thinking about Darwin. I didn't say good-bye to him."  
"Yes you did," Kristin pointed out. "I was in the moonpool when you came in."  
"I could have sworn...," Samantha paused. Why did she think she hadn't? It was so insignificant, but the questioning of her own memory worried her. Other things had been clouding her mind all night. "Right. I did. You're right." Everyone had the table had turned to her, and she could feel all their eyes. "I need some fresh air. Excuse me."  
Bridger wasn't concerned with her leaving, but he was about the abrupt, curious nature in which she did it. Samantha's eyes had shifted to her lap as she scooted away from the table, and then walked across to the balcony without making eye contact with anyone. He set his fork down and stood.  
"Nathan," Kristin looked up, stopping him with a hand on his arm.  
"I know," Bridger simply nodded, understanding that Kristin meant for him to be careful in his words. He moved through the meandering high dressed crowd like weaving through traffic.  
Samantha exhaled and stared out over the sparkling night lights of Alexandria, taking in the panoramic scene. The city was gorgeous at night. It glowed and glittered with a thousand multi-colored gems almost as if she could reach out and touch it. She absently brushed at the side of her long vanilla satin gown and shivered. For a moment she wished she'd brought a small coat to cover the three spaghetti straps over her shoulders and down to the nape of her back in a criss cross pattern. It flattered her figure, and the small jade orb pendant her father gave her right before accented perfectly, but nothing could hide the butterflies of anxiety that fluttered in her stomach.  
She nearly jumped when a hand laid itself on her shoulder.  
"A little jumpy tonight," Bridger commented lightly as he stood beside her.  
She brushed back the stands of hair that fell to the side of her face from her partially don-up hair. "This frilly-froo-froo stuff was never my style."  
"You look gorgeous," Bridger smiled, hoping his compliment would make the young woman smile.  
It worked.  
"Thank you."  
"Something on your mind?"  
"Too much. I just can't keep my mind focused tonight," she sighed.  
  
"Would Lucas happen to be a part of that?"  
"Some," Samantha gave. "He's on his way to Australia. I was certain we'd go back to normal if apart, but I think he was the one really missing Darwin."  
Bridger stuffed his hands in his pockets. "If you'd like my opinion, I don't think crossing the globe will make a difference."  
Samantha stared at the city.  
"As for what you can do, just try to enjoy yourself and remember you're on leave. You have no obligations."  
"Aye, it's nice to just relax for a while."  
She was thoughtful for a moment, then looked up at the captain. In his eyes, she found something she could trust and depend on. She leaned heavily on the thick, marble balcony rail. "Four years of my life were spent here. Did you know that?"  
Nathan shook his head no.  
"We moved constantly from one excavation to the other, never staying in one place for more than two months. Most of the time my father home schooled me, but I never got use to living out there," her green eyes drifted to the horizon. "Now I'm back, and something about this whole thing seems wrong."  
"Is it your father? He seems rather proud of you."  
"Partially. Because of his love for the desert, we never really got along. Now he's treating me like his little lost princess. He wants something from me, I just can't figure out what."  
Nathan glanced back at Shawn and Tim near the recent Egyptian artifacts display. Both were deeply engrossed in conversation. To his eyes it seemed harmless. Tim was thoroughly enjoying himself explaining all he knew to the Egyptologist. He turned his attention back to Samantha. "I'm sure he's just happy to see you."  
The captain was probably right. Samantha turned to watch them for a moment. "I know my dad, and he's only this happy when he wants something. But I hope you're right."  
It was then she caught sight of a scantily clad blond woman swaying through the crowd in a flowing black sequin dress with a large diamond pendant clipped just between her tanned breasts.  
"Samantha, darling. How lovely it is to see you again. I'd assumed you wouldn't be coming, what with your oceanographic work and all. Shawn told me you'd moved from Caicos," the woman glided across the hard wood floor to where the captain and Samantha stood.  
Samantha wanted to puke at the cordiality, but pasted on a smile anyway. "Diana Riggs. I didn't know you were still following my father around."  
"Well, it is tedious work, but the rewards are exceptional," she shifted ice blue eyes to the captain and scanned him from head to toe. "And who is this handsome gentleman, might I ask?" she extended one black satin gloved hand.  
The captain courteously accepted it with a kiss to her knuckles. "Captain Nathan Bridger of the SeaQuest DSV, ma'am. You're on Dr. Kinkade's team?"  
"Dr. Diana Riggs," Diana smiled with red painted lips. "I'm his key assistant, captain. He trusts me with everything."  
The glint in her eye caused a stirring of anger in Samantha. She was glad her acting was up to par.  
Kristin on the other hand, was watching them from across the room like a hawk.  
"So, you're the captain of the famous SeaQuest. Fascinating. For a submariner, you keep up a nice tan," she kept the smile of a Cheshire cat.  
  
Samantha wanted to gag.  
"I've heard of the work you've done, especially regarding the Library of Alexandria. You weren't among the favorites of the world governments for a time after that," she chuckled.  
"Sometimes one needs to take drastic measures to ensure peace, Doctor." As a diplomat, Nathan could be kind.  
"hm," Diana hummed. "Indeed. One must do what is necessary to ensure victory." She slid a tempestuous glance to Samantha. "By the way, Samantha, I hear you're going to the site tomorrow morning. Seems Shawn has some work for you. I suggest you prepare yourself for a long ride." she studied Samantha briefly, then placed two fingers near her face in a gesture made famous by Audrie Hepburn. "Do wear some sunblock, dear. You're as pale as your dress. Your father wouldn't like it if you died of third degree burns."  
The anger bubbled deep and hard inside Samantha, and she glared behind her fake smile. "We wouldn't want that, now would we? Shouldn't you be off smiting someone?"  
"Oh," Diana laughed, "you always were one for jokes."  
~Wait until I really get started,~ Samantha thought.  
Diana turned back to the captain. "I assume you're coming, captain. You wouldn't want to miss this." She flicked the captain a vixen eyelash bat, then took the sway of her hips to the end of the room where Shawn and Tim were talking over a large hieroglyphic pot. With smooth grace, she slipped her arm through Shawn's as if staking a claim.  
"That woman makes me sick," Samantha growled once Diana was clear of earshot.  
"Bad blood between you?" asked Bridger.  
"You could say that. She's been after my dad's position for years." she said and looked back at her father. "She thinks she can claim the glory, but truth is, she's always been one step behind, and she knows it. We're a constant reminder of what she'll never achieve."  
"Does your mother know?"  
"My mother doesn't care. She trusts my father. She just doesn't trust Diana. And neither do I."  
Bridger nodded and watched the trio. He was sure if he hadn't been with Samantha just then, the fur would have flown, and flown far.  
  
Elsewhere across the city on his way to the hotel, Lucas Wolenczak had to force back the sudden urge to smash something into an unrecognizable pulp.  
  
* * * *  
  
((Here you go. :o) The next part will have more Lucas, so don't touch that dial! Please R&R.)) 


	6. Part 2: The Ties that Bind

((I promised more Lucas, and here it is! Thanks to everyone who reviewed the last chapter. This project has been a lot of fun, and seeing where it's going to go is just as much the adventure for me as it is for you. Thank you thank you.))  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
Chapter 6----The Ties that Bind  
  
The vidcom in Jarod's dorm at the Chatton Parapsychology Center blinked green to an incoming call. Red letters flashed in sync to the light for a long moment before it was answered by the smooth press of a tanned finger on the enter button.  
"Yes sir?"  
"The phone was ringing for over a minute, Lancing."  
"Sorry Mr. Phalwell. I was finishing some work for Professure Maybrid. It won't happen again."  
"Don't give me a deer-in-the-headlight blink, Lancing. Were you afraid I would take this slight out on someone...closer? Oh, how little you know me. I wouldn't dream of it. In fact, I'm becoming quite fond of the little brat. You are keeping up the story about the camp-out, right, Lancing?"  
Jarod nodded.  
"Good. I'll be keeping an eye on you, but enough small talk. Shall we move on to business?"  
Phalwell moved aside, leaving the screen open to a view of a cozy little room with light purple walls and lace pulled back beside a blind covered dormer window. Beneath the window sat a plush, flowerprint couch with stuft toys thrown hap-hazardly onto the cushins. Various pictures of nature scenes and cuddly animals accented the walls in even spaces, and smooth eggshell carpet flowed from beneath the couch out of sight.  
For all the world to see, it appeared as a simple child's bedroom-- nothing missing, nothing out of the ordinary--just a room. It was fashioned to a 'T' but held a threatening permanence.  
It made Jarod's heart lurch into his throat with a burning that drew from the center of his stomach and out like tendrils of fire.  
A small face framed in falls of straight blond hair like a sorrowed angel's wings peeked in from the side screen, then stood in center. The little girl smiled absently, brushing back her fingers over the yarn locks of a doll clutched in her hands. Jarod wanted to reach through the screen and pull her to the saftey of his arms, but it was impossible, and he ached at the cruelty of modern technology.  
"Hi, Miranda."  
Miranda Lancing blinked large blue eyes and played with the doll's hair. "Hi, Jake-ee."  
"Are you alright?"  
"uh-huh. I miss you, Jake-ee. When can I come home?"  
"Soon."  
"How soon?"  
"As soon as I can, I promise."  
Miranda looked at her feet, still playing with the doll. "Mr. Phalwell says I can go home when he's happy." Her eyes moved back to her brother's image and she frowned. "I miss mommy and daddy."  
"Mommy and daddy miss you, too," he lied. He couldn't possibly tell her that their parents thought their baby girl was camping with a Girl Scout troop in the Everglades.  
"Tasha doesn't think we'll get to go home."  
"Tell Tasha I said she's wrong."  
Miranda glanced sassily beside her and repeated Jarod's words to thin air.  
She was only seven years old, but her reference to Tasha has begun when she was four. The fact that she held on to Tasha made Jarod wonder if his little sister had interited the gift of a Medium as he had. If Tasha was a roaming spirit, then Miranda could have a future at Chatton. Of course, the fact that Miranda was so young could mean her invisible friend was just that--an invisable friend.  
Right now, Phalwell had no clue and Jarod thanked his lucky stars.  
"Guess what?" Miranda prodded, much like little kids do when they have a secret to tell.  
"What?"  
"I drew on the wall even though Rick told me not to," she grinned michieviously out of sight at the surly bodyguard stationed near the bedroom door. "He says he'll put me in the closet again if I do it again."  
Jarod paled. "The closet...?"  
"But I'm not afraid, Jake-ee. Me and Tasha are brave. We just wait until it's over and sing songs." Her blue eyes betrayed her even as she smiled. She glance down, at the doll and Jarod thought he saw the glimmer of wetness in her eyes before she looked at him again. "I don't want to wait anymore, Jake-ee."  
The burning reached his heart in his throat. He had to swallow both back down to speak again. "You won't have to. Hold on, Miranda. You're big brother's coming."  
Miranda smiled, but before she could say another word, she was ushered out of view and replaced by the ugly, mid-fourty year old face of Edward Phalwell.  
"That's enough. You'll see her later."  
"You'll burn for this, Phalwell," Jarod hissed.  
"Tut tut, Lancing," Phalwell warned, waggling his finger. "You wouldn't want to upset the man sitting on the trigger."  
Jarod reluctantly bit his lip.  
"Better. I have a mission for you. The Wolenczak boy and the Kinkade girl are in Egypt at an Archeological Society convention. Wolenczak was going to fly to Australia earlier today, but due to a disappointing note from his father, he won't be making it to World Power. Just as Dr. Wolenczak won't be expecting his son due to a similar note.  
Now listen carefully. The site Dr. Kinkade unearthed contains an essential element I will need for revenge."  
The young psychic's face hardened. "What do you want me to do?"  
"I want you on a plane to Egypt in one hour."  
"What if they don't accept me?"  
"They will. Egypt is full of mysteries and ghosts. Having an accomplished Medium on site will undoubtedly benifit their cause. Plus, you're familiar with the sense of combined souls. You'll know what to look for in the sensory department."  
"What's the artifact?"  
"A small jade jewl known as the Orb of Eshe."  
"If I can ask, what are you going to do with it once you have it?"  
"That is of no concern to you!" Phalwell barked. Recomposing himself, he cleared his throat and brushed down the lapels of his black Armani blazer. Perhaps it would be equitable to keep the young man's curiosity piqued. "It is, however, the key to my immortality and to their destruction."  
"Why do you want to hurt them? They've done nothing to you."  
"They shifted the balance of power!" Phalwell slammed his fist on the table holding the vidcom, then waited for his words to sink into the 20 year old psychic. "I will not be made a mockery of."  
"When can I see Miranda again?"  
"After you've obtained the orb. Be at the J.F.K airport in one hour."  
The transmission was cut without pause for reaction.  
Trained psychic calming techniques were what kept Jarod from mentaly assaulting Phalwell, and he knew one wrong move would ask for a precious life as payment. Now, if he didn't get the Orb of Eshe from Dr. Shawn Kinkade, more lives would be at risk.  
He liked Samantha. And admitadly, Lucas as well. Dispite the nautre of their meeting, searching through Samantha's and Lucas' recorded history, and getting Lucas drunk so Samantha would be easier to manipulate in questioning about her work onboard SeaQuest and the ship's classified information, he'd grown to care about her.  
And now he was selling her out. Both of them.  
It made him sick with the vile taste of self-hatred.  
  
* * * *  
  
By the time Lucas arrived at the hotel, he was exhausted to the point of falling asleep on his feet. It didn't make sense to him simply because he'd slept well the past couple nights, and slept in that morning. He'd drank at least two cups of coffee and taken a slight nap at the airport, so all reason suggested he should be wide awake and on a caffeine high.  
Yet if he could have curled up in the back seat of the cab he'd been riding in, he would have.  
He rubbed the bleariness from his tired eyes, paid the curry-scented cabby ~Were all cabbies Indian? Was that a requirement for this job?~, hefted his duffel bag, and walked up the scalloped marble stairs to the double front doors. He pushed them open, avoiding the large glass panels set center on the doors, and walked inside.  
Immediately, he was greeted by a cool blow of an air-conditioned atmosphere. The difference woke him up slightly so his vision returned to normal from seeing double.  
The hotel lobby was grand, boasted waxed marble floors, decorative rugs, carved buttresses above and bellow and indoor balcony to the second floor, a lavishly decorated Victorian waiting area adorned with a patterned table runner and candles, and two falling ice chandeliers. Kings would have felt at home in this lobby. All hotels know the first major impression a guest receives is the lobby, so naturally they put their best in the shop window. The marvelous display was meant to gives gasps of awe from customers, insuring continuing return business.  
All of this grandeur barely registered to the sixteen year old computer genius as he made his way to the broad alabaster front desk. Glitz and glamour could be dirt and dust for all he cared.  
The crisp uniformed desk clerk glanced up from his book at the squeaking of sneakers against the smooth marble floor. Irritated at the interruption by a kid, he marked his place and lay the book under the counter out of sight. Pasting on a grin for the kid was the nicest thing the thirty year old man could do at 12pm.  
"Can I help you?"  
Lucas pretended not to look as exhausted as he felt, and glanced to the silver lined name tag pinned neatly to the clerk's black lapel. It read in simple sans serif 'T. Becker' "I'm looking for Captain Nathan Bridger's room. He's with the UEO party."  
"Your name, please?"  
"Lucas Wolenczak. I'm with the group as well," he yawned.  
The clerk took a moment to type in the name on his flat screen. "I don't see your name on the register."  
"That's because I wasn't suppose to be here," Lucas sighed. "Can you just give me the room number?"  
T. Becker rolled his eyes. He'd heard this before, and knew from past experience that strangers were not to be trusted in any way. It was such a repetitive situation that he cleared his throat with no more attention than he'd give to watching grass grow. "I'm sorry. I can't give that information unless I am certain of your affiliation with the UEO group."  
Lucas fumbled for his wallet in his back pocket and opened it. Nimbly, he sifted through the few cards tucked in the thin leather slots and pulled out a blue, black, yellow, and white laminate ID card and slide it across the counter to the clerk.  
Becker picked it up and scanned the face and name with dark eyes. Both eyebrows raised in curt skepticism. "Chief Computer Analyst?"  
Lucas nodded.  
"You've got to be kidding."  
Lucas's blue eyes narrowed in frustration. "It says so right there. Now get me the room number, or get me the manager." He was too tired to deal with explaining his I.Q right now.  
The clerk eyed him, disbelieving, but the youth's serious--and obviously irritated--expression gained a bemused smile from the older man. He drew up the guest list with a click of the wireless computer mouse. "Nathan Bridger is in room 301. That's third floor and all the way to the right from the elevator."  
"Thank you," Lucas said. Turning away, he walked across the lobby to the elevator and pressed the 'up' button.  
The doors slid open, but to his tired eyes, they were moving about as fast as a racing snail. A tingling sensation drew up from the bottom of his feet and washed through him like warm water into his head and swirled there, as if lightly scratching to be released. He watched the doors, stunned and frozen where he stood.  
Air pulled away from him but he didn't panic. He couldn't. The doors became silver liquid, melting into an amebic shape that morphed into blocks of hardened age weathered stone. Soon he found he was floating in a pool of the same consistency as the doors in liquid state, suspended in it like a drowned person long past rescuing. His arms and legs felt heavy. He couldn't move, couldn't lift them with the mild command his suddenly foggy mind gave his body.  
The water surged him forward toward the rock and he could make out small markings etched into the stone--hieroglyphs from an ancient, greater age. Blooming billows of bubbles escaped from the opening with a rush that pulled the water he floated in into the unknown beyond.  
It would have been strange if he were in the right mind to analyze and think, but his mind was numb. All he could do was let the suction power pull him inside with the rest of the water. He rolled in it, aware of his too heavy body and the lack of breathing. That was what brought his conscious mind around like a slow lazy susan. He couldn't breath--yet he wasn't suffocating. He couldn't hear anything except the water and his own thoughts.  
~Where am I?~ was the most the complicated sentence he could manage. The rest of him felt asleep and he was barely aware of being pulled into an adjoining room until the glitter of green light caught his eyes. It shone through the center of a symbol of two dolphins encircling each other, head to fluke. It rested on a thick stone alter, shining like looking up at the sun from beneath the ocean's surface and watching light rays stream through the broken movement of water in liquid grace. A large cartouche overlaid the front of the alter onto the floor, spilling beneath him in trails of Egyptian markings.  
It was absolutely fantastic. Very cool.  
He moved toward it as fast as the current would let him, reaching out his right arm automatically to touch the symbol. The closer he came, the hotter anticipation flared in his stomach. A few more inches and he could touch it. A little farther and he would find the glowing thing trapped between the dolphins and learn its secrets. He had to free it so he would know. His fingers extended subtly, his eyes widened, his anticipation grew...  
Ding!  
Lucas snapped fast awake to reality, stumbled back, tripping over his own foot, and fell to the stone floor of the Alexandria Grand Hotel with a thud. His duffel bag hit the ground out of reach.  
The doors of the elevator slide open, revealing a floppy haired man with glasses wearing a sweat shirt and cargoes. Lucas blinked up at the man standing where the glowing symbol use to be, wondering where the light had gone, where the room was, and why he was on the floor dry as a bone when he should be soaking wet with sea water.  
Shawn Kinkade bent down with an outstretched hand. "Whoa, are you alright? I didn't see you there."  
Lucas took his hand and stood, then picked up his duffel bag. He brushed his clothing down, the pushed his hair back. Bangs fell in front of his bag laden eyes. "It's cool. I think I just zoned." ~To a place incredibly real.~  
"Hey, you're that kid from the SeaQuest loading dock, right? I saw you leaving just as I arrived to pick up... What am I keeping you for? You look exhausted. Where you going?"  
Lucas forced the fog away from his thoughts. "Room...301."  
"Ah, that's my floor," Shawn grinned. "Anyone in particular?"  
"Captain Bridger."  
The man nodded. "I think he's back in his room." He patted Lucas on the shoulder, apologized again, then walked through the lobby and out the front doors.  
Lucas worried his face as he stepped into the elevator and pressed the 3rd floor button. The doors slide closed this time without any funky shifting--plain natural working technology--and sailed smoothly upward.  
What had he seen? Did he fall asleep on his feet? Was he that tired to slip into r.e.m sleep without even closing his eyes? That had to have been all it was. Still, the unwarranted weariness and the tingling sensation remained , though fading slowly. He'd probably had some bad coffee, or food, then remembered he hadn't eaten dinner.  
The elevator doors whooshed open to the blue carpeted hallway of the third floor. He turned right and followed the long corridor to a window at the end. Each section was cut into quarters--four doors with a space between them harboring a sitting room, or candy machine.  
Four doors flanked the paneled window, each with neat large numbers set at the top of the door. He knocked on the last right-hand room reading 301.  
"Who is it?" Bridger's voice answer.  
"It's me, Lucas."  
A lock clicked once and the door opened. Captain Bridger stood in the doorway in a long bathrobe and slippers. He gawked at his unexpected visitor.  
"Lucas? What are you doing here? I thought you'd be half way to Australia by now."  
Lucas leaned on one foot. "There was a sudden change of plans. Uhm," he began, "I was wondering if you wouldn't mind letting me couch surf with you tonight, if that's alright."  
Bridger blinked, then stepped aside. "Of course. Since you asked nicely, I can't let you sleep in the hallway."  
"Thanks," Lucas muttered. He walked in and went straight of the complimentary fruit basket, dropping his duffel to the floor.  
Bridger shut the door and went back to the bathroom to brush his teeth. "So, what happened?"  
"There was an explosion at World Power and my dad doesn't want me there right now."  
"Not serious, I hope."  
Lucas shook his head. "No."  
"Well that's good, and understandable. You may be believe it, but you are important to him. Trust me on that. Your father's work means a lot to the UEO, and the rest of the world. I know you're tired of hearing about it, but it's the truth. We are funding the on-switch for this thing," he spit into the sink and washed his mouth out. "The implications of this project are massive--the entire world powered by one hydraulic plant. It's like your advances with the vocorder. How's that going anyway?"  
Nothing answer him.  
"Lucas?" Bridger walked back into the living area, but stopped just short of the small table holding a vase of flowers near the bedroom door.  
Lucas' head was resting against the arm of the couch, eyes closed, and breathing steadily. The half eaten apple dangled from his limp hand over the edge of the cushions.  
Bridger sighed with a slight shake of his head and cross the living room. "Poor kid," he whispered. The apple came easily from Lucas' hand, and into the waste basket even easier. "He still doesn't listen."  
Though he was joking, the small grin faded from his sun wrinkled face. Lucas had been let down again and left to the foster care of the UEO. In a way, it gave Bridger a sense of need even though he wished the young man had someone else to turn to. Lucas was the most incredible kid Bridger had come to meet. He should have anything he wanted in this world with a mind as intricate and complex as that, boasting an intelligence quotient of 245--way over the charts. Everyone should want a piece of him, girls should be flocking to him, grants should be given to him for his hard work on the vocorder and the SeaQuest's computer. He should be wanted, loved by everyone, adored and heralded in fame.  
But here he was, a normal teenager crashed out on a hotel couch in the captain's quarters wearing faded jeans, old sneakers, and a flannel at least five years old. The young prince living a pauper's life.  
Bridger drew a blanket from the king sized bed and draped it over Lucas' sleeping form.  
~Lucas.~ The captain rolled the name around in his mind. ~Lucas Daniel.~ Lucas was English for 'Bringer of Light.' Fitting by Darwin's meaning of light. His middle name meant 'Interpreter.' Also uncannily fitting.  
Bridger wondered with a chuckle if the kid's parents had given him that name deliberately.  
Maybe not today, but someday the world will accept this cocky young man as he truly is--Lucas Daniel Wolenczak.  
  
((Please R&R if you like. ^_^ )) 


	7. Jonathan

JONATHAN GREGORY BRANDIS----IN OUR HEARTS FOR EVER AND FOR ALWAYS  
  
To Everyone,  
  
The reason I haven't posted a new chapter is because I haven't brought myself to write one. In five days, this is the most out of the MSN group, TO2B I can do. My heart has been clutched in the grips of grief and great pain, and I was housebound for 3 days and throwing up, breaking into hysterical tears, denial, numb depression, crying, everything. It's as if someone took a dull cork screw, ripped out a part of me from deep inside, crumbled it up in filthy hands, and crushed it repeatedly beneath a dirty boot.  
  
The reason is not simple, nor is it any easier to say than it would be ten years from now.  
  
I am very very very sad to inform everyone who did no know about the untimly, hurtful, and sorrow filled death of Jonathan Gregory Brandis.  
  
Jonathan died on November 12th, 2003 at Ceders-Sinai hospital in Los Angeles. He was found by friends uncoscious in his apartment near midngith of November 11th, and taken to the hospital where he passed away. Coroner's Office has identified him as our Jon. The news hit me like a ton of granite bricks. His death is exactly 2 months to the day that I met him.  
  
He was only 27 years old.  
  
There are too many rumors explaining exactly how he died, but until the toxicology reports get back, no one will know for sure, and it could take four to six weeks for that. This tragic news has recently been posted in the L.A Times, and the Chicago Sun-Times.  
  
Jonathan Gregory Brandis was born April 13, 1976 to Greg and Mary Brandis. His father was a firefighter, and his mother was a teacher and his former manager. He was an exceptional actor since his parents were first told to put him in commercials at age 2. We watched him grow up, we followed his career through from commercials to the recent and unreleased "Puerta Valara Squeeze," and we sent him letters of incouragment. He became a part of our family.  
  
He had roles as everything--from drugies to a martial arts student, from Fantasia hero to P.O.W, to a writer avoiding the draft, but his most memorable claim to fame is as the SeaQuest's young computer genius, Lucas Wolenczak..  
  
The part riochetted him to the top of Seventeens "10 sexiest men" list, and a teen idol.  
  
Lucas Wolenczak entered our homes in 1993 every sunday night on NBC with the rest of the memorable SeaQuest crew. He woo'd us, he made us laugh, he brought reality to the young cocky genius, and he paved the way for like characters in future shows. He gave the computer nerd status a whole new identity. Intelligent and cool.  
  
Jonathan will never know how much he has touched the hearts of fans, friends, and family all over the world. We miss him terribley--I miss him terribly--but we know he will always there in our writings and poems. He will live on in our hearts as a wonderful, caring, gracious and fabulous human being--an inspiration to us all. God broke the mold when made Jon, and now he's gone home to the arms of the angels.  
  
He will be in my heart for ever and for always, and I will love him for the rest of my life.  
  
Jonathan Gregory Brandis, may the Lord bless you and keep you. May he make his face to shine upon you and give you peace, and let a chorus of angels sing thee to they rest.  
  
*In loving memory of a friend* 


	8. Chapter Eight

***Ok, I'm sorry I haven't posted in a very long time --about 5 months actualy. So, I want to give thanks to everyone who's read this story and is still clinging to the vesper of hope that it will be completed someday .....because you're not alone. Things are going to start a little slow in the postings, but I thank you from the bottom of my heart for sticking with this.  
  
And now, chapter 8.****  
  
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~  
  
~The next morning...~  
  
Lucas got up before the captain had awoken and glanced to the small digital clock set on the end table. 6am. Way too early for someone who's average wake-up time was 10 am. He stretched stiff muscles and yawned, reaching for the ceiling and squinted in the early morning light the curtains allowed to spill across the carpet. ~Why does this room have to face east?~ he thought. His head felt light, his feet tingled from sudden pressure, and his stomach told him clearly breakfast needed to come soon.  
He grumbled. The couch was comfortable, but it had left a bad crimp in his neck. Slipping on his shoes, he eased out of room 301 and made his way down the hall to the stairs at the end. Since last night's incident, his want to take the elevator had decreased a conciderable amount. Besides, it was a good excuse to excersise.  
The hotel restaurant was decorated in bright colors with a simple carpet pattern. The colonial dark wood chairs were neatly aranged around each identicle table, a breakfast bar ran through the center of the room flanked heavily by ferns, and the clattering of dishes in the back refreshed his sense of morning. He waved to a group of familiar people taking up a table near one of the sheer covered windows.  
"Good morning, Lucas," Katie sipped her coffee with a general greeting to him.  
Miguel had his mouth full of biscuts and gravy, but managed a friendly wave. Ben sat on the other side of the table reading a copy of the Alexandria Times. He glanced up with raised brows. "Morning, Luke. What are you doing here?"  
Lucas thought that looked too comfortable for the way Ben and Katie always approached mornings on the ship. "Change of plans," he yawned. It was a good explanation: short, simple and to the point. "Where's everyone else?"  
"Tim's on the other side of the wall with Dr. Kinkade," Ben pointed to a dividing wall that hid another side of the resaurant, then just grinned and went back to his paper.  
Lucas nodded, wondering to ask about Samantha, but kept his mouth shut. He wasn't quite awake yet, and by the smell of it, the restaurant's coffee had been made fresh that morning. He just hoped it was better than the ship's blended excuse.  
Tunnel vision lead him to the breakfast bar and the bagles there in. He glanced quickly up at the mirror reflecting the food --a technique used to make it more astheticaly appealing-- flicked at his hair, and proceeded to fill his plate. He worked at the kink in his neck with one hand while reaching for the cream cheese with the other and again glanced up at the mirror.  
"Ah!" he cried out, dropping the cream cheese with wide blue eyes. ~Oh lord! It happened again!~  
"Ah!" Samantha screamed, jerking her hand from her neck where she had an itch mirroring where Lucas had the crimp. She had expected to see her face in the mirror, not his. Turns out there was a gap in the mirror where one could reach to the other side for an extra serving of bagels. "Jesus, Lucas, what are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?!"  
Lucas heart rate slowly returned to normal. "I was trying to get breakfast."  
She swallowd her heart. Samantha picked up a plain bagel and set it on her plate, relieved to not see Lucas mimic the action. "What are you doing here? I thought you'd be in Australia by now."  
Lucas shrugged and reached for the peaches, plopping them next to a pile of hashbrowns. "That's what the captain said last night. There was a change of plans and I'm stuck here for leave."  
"What happened?" Samantha, glanced to the hashbrowns, ~He'll never give up,~ grabbed the peach spoon on her side and ladled some onto her plate. The two countered each other on opposite sides as they worked their way down the breakfast bar.  
"There was an explosion at World Power and my dad doesn't want me there."  
"Wow, that sucks. What anyone hurt?"  
"No, just minor injuries, but the radiation levels are too high to allow anyone in or out."  
"Are you ok?"  
He looked up briefly, taking the pause a little longer than he should have. "Yea. Now I've got 3 days with nothing to do. Figured I'd head back to SeaQuest."  
"Are you insane?"  
Lucas glared at his reflection in the mirror. "Don't go there."  
"I'm just saying it's shore leave. Enjoy it."  
"Doing what? Yesterday I came up with a sub design. This would be the perfect chance to work on it without Commander Ford breathing down my neck."  
"The captain would probably send the commander back with you."  
He snorted. "My luck."  
They reached the end of the bar where the mirror edge split a collection of pastries. Samantha looked curiously up at him. "What kind of sub?"  
"A single seat fighter."  
"Got a name for it?"  
"Yea, the Stinger."  
She nodded and popped a peach into her mouth. "Work out the details here."  
"You're up to somthing. I can feel it."  
She swallowed with a grin. "My dad's taking me to the site today. The captain's coming as well. You might be interested. If anything you can use the time to work on the Stinger design. It sounds cool..."  
"No, you can't help."  
"Butthead," she frowned.  
"Mmhmm," Lucas grinned and thought her offer over. Other than seeing her irate about not being a part of a project, he concidered the idea a fair one, and to his acceptance, intreguing. "An actual Egyptian excavation site... Very cool."  
"I'll tell my dad. Be outside in an hour." Samantha grinned, grabbed a napkin and turned toward the other side of the restaruant dining area where her father and Tim were talking over bacon and eggs.  
Lucas recognized the man she labled as her father to be the same one that ran into him at the elevator. For a split second, he thought about telling her what happened, then quickly shook the thought. He poured a cup of coffee and set it on his tray.  
She sighed and side-glanced back to the blond teenager, who shrugged with a reserved half grin as if to say 'sorry, can't help ya there.'  
The two left the bar to opposite sides of the room, opposite breakfast groups, but with their backs to each other.  
Ben looked over as Lucas sat down and started in on the coffee. Behind him, barely visable through some potted ferns, he saw Samantha do the same. "You two are never going to get over this, are you?" he grinned slightly at the light hearted humor.  
Lucas' blue eyes flicked to the moral officer.  
Ben had enough time to use his napkin as a sheild against the kid's quick use of a spoon as a peach launcher.  
  
***There should be more coming up, but give me some time, please and many bows. What will the SEAQUEST crew encounter in the deserts of Egypt? Stay tuned for the next exiting installment of Walk On the Ocean. *** 


End file.
